


Deserves

by Sunnyrea



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: 5x02, M/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-07 11:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6801805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnyrea/pseuds/Sunnyrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You have to stop pushing him or he just might listen to you.  You can’t –”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“I can do whatever I please, Ms. Groves,” Harold says harshly with emphasis on the name Root hates. “Why shouldn’t he escape this?”</i>
</p><p>[Harold tries to push John away during season 5 to give him a real life, but...]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea came to me when I watched the 'sneak peak 2' they put out for 5x02. I don't even know what the whole episode is going to be like but Harold asking about Iris, telling John to go do things. It just got into my head and I thought why not! (Because clearly I like to torture myself and everyone else).
> 
> [UPDATE: I'd say now after 5x02 and 5x03 this fits very well. But John's actions may be giving me fuel for a continuation. ]

“What’s the ETA, Finch?”

Harold and Root turn and give John matching unamused glances as he walks up to the subway car. 

John holds up his hands in surrender. “I was just asking.”

“We need to find more game consoles,” Root says as she carries one into the subway car past where Harold sits. “We burnt out two more last night and we need to maintain the server space or She could lose RAM.”

“Doubt we can go back to our first source,” John says.

Harold hears Root giggle as she puts the PlayStation on the floor then stands up straight again. “I might have some ideas.”

“Care to share, Root?”

“Let me check on those first. I’ll be sure to call you if I need you.”

“Finch?”

“Mr. Reese?” Harold says without looking back at John from his computer screens, the Machine running sluggishly in front of him.

“What can I do?”

Harold clears his throat. “Go to the police station. You still have a cover to maintain.”

“Finch, I want to –“

“I know, Mr. Reese,” Harold says, turning around to face John. “But we need you where you are with your police access while the Machine rebuilds.”

“We have Lionel.”

“As good as Detective Fusco is, you can –“

“I am better without the eyes of dozens of cops on me, Finch. I am sure I can…”

“Just go, Mr. Reese.” John raises his eyebrows. Harold sighs. “One of us should get out of this subway. I am sure you could use some more time with Dr. Campbell. Things are going well?”

John purses his lips. “If that’s what you want.”

Harold turns back around toward his computer again. “Enjoy the fresh air, Mr. Reese. Have a drink. We will be sure to let you know when the Machine is back on Her feet.”

Harold feels John watch his back for a few beats. Harold keeps his fingers on the keys and stares at his computer screen. He does not turn back around. Then he hears John’s footsteps as he walks away across the platform and up the stairs. Harold starts typing again to access the Machine’s programing.

“You know, you shouldn’t keep doing that,” Root says once the sound of the snack machine door over their hidden staircase filters down.

Harold glances at Root briefly where she crouches in front of one game console, pulling out wires. Then he turns back to the computer screen. “Do what?”

“Push him away, encouraging him to have a normal life.” He looks at her more seriously now, his fingers still. She raises her eyebrows. “We need him.”

“Mr. Reese is still working with –”

“Of course he is, but we don’t know how long this war is going to last and you trying to save him just because of how you feel about him is only going to weaken us.”

Harold clenches one fist. “I don’t know what you mean, Root.”

She stares at him for two beats. “Yes, you do.” She gestures toward where John went. “We don’t need him running off to a normal life which wouldn’t last long anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“One less person on our side in a Samaritan war?” She scoffs. “Yes, I do.”

Harold clenches his teeth and turns back around to the code of the Machine. “He has a chance.”

Root sighs as she pulls the broken console out of the line onto the subway car floor. “Do any of us, Harold?”

“Mr. Reese deserves –”

“It’s not about what he deserves, Harold!” Root snaps and stands up abruptly. “You need to put your personal feelings aside.”

“Like you are?” Harold snaps back, turning around in his chair.

Root’s mouth pinches. “I am. I have been.”

They stare hard at each other for a moment then Root takes a step closer, leaning over Harold slightly. “You have to stop pushing him or he just might listen to you. You can’t –”

“I can do whatever I please, Ms. Groves,” Harold says harshly with emphasis on the name Root hates. “Why shouldn’t he escape this?” Harold waves a hand at their enclosed surroundings. “I am a cause long lost. You are waiting for Ms. Shaw to return. Mr. Reese? He still has the possibility of getting out of this with a chance at happiness, at living outside of this underground dungeon, at being a real person! He deserves it after everything he has done for this city; after all he has done for me.” Harold breathes in deeply. “If his cover holds, if he and Dr. Campbell can be happy, then he deserves to have that.”

Harold turns back to his computer once more and starts typing where he left off, a patch on the Machine’s archival access. He is putting Her back together piece by piece. If he can save Her then he can most certainly save John too.

“Harold…” Root puts a hand on his shoulder and he stops typing. “We need all the help we can get. John is an important asset.”

“He is not going to leave, Root.” Harold sits up straight so Root pulls her hand away. “His loyalty is not something he easily shakes. While this war is on, you need not fear about his commitment.”

“And after?”

“And after we should all move on.” Harold types another line of code. “In separate directions.”

“So you’re laying the ground work.” She pauses. “Coding him?”

Harold’s jaw clenches. “Human beings are not so simple.”

“And neither are machines lately,” she quips.

“I am not coding, Mr. Reese,” Harold insists.

“No, you’re conditioning him.” Root steps away and crouches down beside the game consoles again. 

Harold’s fingers falter. “I…”

“You’re pulling yourself back, being just his boss again,” Root pushes. “Continually suggesting a world beyond the numbers, beyond the Machine, activities, a love life, so that when the time comes and you break ties he will be ‘safe.’” She slides the new PlayStation into place alongside the others. “Or what you consider to be safe. Tell me, Harry.” She plugs in one Ethernet cord. “When you ran away from Grace before, did she stay ‘safe?’”

Harold presses his hands into the wood of the desk. He breathes in and out as he stares at the keyboard. He does not speak for almost a full minute. Root stays still in his peripheral vision. 

“You have spent enough of your life being cruel, Root,” Harold finally says. “I do not see why you feel the need to continue now.”

Harold hears a hitch in Root’s voice. “Well maybe I want to protect you, Harold, just like you want to protect John.”

Harold turns his head just enough to see her still crouched near the floor. She plugs in another cord to connect the game station to the others then switches it on. She steadies herself with a hand on the shelves then stands up again.

“You’re not a ‘lost cause,’ Harold. If this war ends, if we somehow make it through, don’t you think you’ll have a life too?”

“But that’s not the whole point, Root,” Harold says, her question very much unanswered; “it is also about now. If none of us are going to survive this war, which you must admit seems rather likely.”

Root makes a face but does not deny his assertion.

“If that is the case then we need to live for now. We need to enjoy what time we have. You and I want to help Her. Mr. Reese…” Harold’s eyes shift away from Root. “He can have something else.” He looks up at Root again. “He should have something else.”

Root raises her eyebrows. “Without you?”

Harold breathes in slowly then clicks his tongue. “He never wanted me, Root.” He turns back around to the computer screen. “He needed a purpose. That’s all.”

“Harold…”

“And there is Ms. Shaw.” Harold gestures toward her. “I know you agree we must reclaim her.”

“Yes, but…”

“And that is for you, Root, a chance for you,” Harold says quietly as he starts to type again - the archival memory space of the Machine is compromised, fragmented from the compression. She remembers some things about them, about past numbers, but it remains incomplete.

“Harold.”

Harold can manually reboot some of the memory drives, a few at a time, to restore the Machine’s past capacity. They could also increase the server space and possibly allow the Machine to reconstruct Her memories from archival video feeds. However, as Harold had been coding earlier, the archival video access is limited.

“Harold.” Root suddenly turns his chair around to face her. “Stop it, please.”

Harold puts his hands over hers on the arms of his chair. Her face shifts to surprise; Harold rarely touches her. Then he pulls her hands off of his chair and lets them go again.

“I know what you want to say, Root, but John and I have worked together for a number of years now. I know him better than you.”

“Or maybe you’re too close to see.”

“I see this, Root, She needs us, me especially and I am not going to abandon Her.” Harold’s eyes shift to the screens then back to Root. “That is not John’s world; I am not his world. I want him to have another one.”

Harold turns his chair back around to face the computer and Root does not stop him. Harold starts to type again, ignoring Root’s stare. There is nothing she could say to change his mind.

 

[What Harold does not see behind him is John standing in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs. What Harold did not hear were John’s feet immediately coming back down the stairs after their secret door closed – a simple, every day moment of John leaving something behind by mistake. What Harold did not see was John listening to Harold and Root through their whole argument and conversation.

Now Harold does not notice as Root turns her head to see John standing on the bottom step. Now Harold does not see the expression on John’s face.]


	2. Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“We can’t all afford to have normal lives right now, Finch; I can’t afford to."_   
>  _“John, you can't think like –”_   
>  _“And maybe that’s not what I wanted in the first place.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame all my commenters for this. Thank you for the support! We all _deserve_ this with the way I imagine the season is going to go.

When Harold hears John’s feet coming down the stairs toward the subway platform he stands up from his chair inside the subway car and walks out to meet him.

“Who’s hungry?” John says as soon as he steps off the stairs.

“Bear is,” Root says with a look toward Harold.

Harold gives her an annoyed look back. “I have not forgotten, Ms. Groves. He was our dog before you took up residence and he has survived quite well.”

“Constant vigilance, Harold,” Root quips as she takes one of the large paper bags full of Chinese food from John’s hands.

John grins, hands the second bag to Root after she puts the first down then walks in the direction of Bear’s dry food tub. “Careful, Harold, if you don’t bribe him with food Bear might start to like Root more than you. She's already given him slippers.”

Root and Harold scoff at the same time. Bear makes a squeaking whimper type noise then suddenly walks over to Harold, pushing his head up under Harold’s hand. Harold smiles and scratches Bear behind the ears.

“You love us all equally, I know.”

Bear skootches close to Harold’s leg then sits down, waiting as John walks back over with his food. Harold pets Bear’s head again then leans down enough to tap the dog between his shoulder blades. “Good boy, eet je eten.”

Bear stands up again and trots over to John as he crouches down by Bear’s bed to fill up his food bowl. 

“Did you get the dumplings?” Root asks, as she peers down into the bag she took.

“Other bag,” John says as he stands up straight again. He then walks back across the platform to return the dog food to its proper place.

“Fried?” Root groans as she opens the Styrofoam box she pulled from the second bag.

“I ordered steamed,” John shoots back as he walks over again.

Root only makes a disgruntled noise. At the table, John reaches into one bag and pulls out some chopsticks. He puts one pair on the table then holds out the other set for Harold. Harold walks over and takes the offered chopsticks.

“You should take the dumplings back." Root snatches the chopsticks John put on the table. “Give them your ‘man in the suit’ stare.”

John glares at her thieving. “Fried and steamed are not that different, Root.” Then he retrieves himself a third set of chopsticks from the bag.

“I am sure the dumplings will be fine, Mr. Reese,” Harold says, waiting for John to finish getting his food.

John pulls a white container out of the bag and places it on the table beside Root’s dumplings. He opens it and shoves his chopsticks straight in. Root peers over his shoulder at what appears to be some type of lo mein but John shrugs her off. He then sits down and crosses one leg over his knee to use as a table for his noodle box.

Harold frowns as he taps his chopsticks on his hand. “Are you eating here, Mr. Reese?” John nods at him. “I thought you had a dinner with Dr. Campbell planned for this evening?” He gestures at their takeout. "Possibly Chinese?"

“Good to know you are stalking his social calendar, Harold,” Root says, shooting Harold an accusatory look from behind John’s back.

“Actually, I broke up with Iris a couple of days ago,” John says.

Harold pauses with his hands half out of the take out bag as he turns to look at John. “Broke up?”

“As in the usual sense and not her knee caps?” Root jokes.

John glances at her, unamused, but does not appear genuinely offended.

“I’m sorry, John,” Harold says as he puts his broccoli and beef down on the table. “Were things not going well?”

“Things were going fine.”

Harold frowns. “Then why…”

“It wasn’t that.” Then John puts his take out box down on the table and looks up at Harold. “We can’t all afford to have normal lives right now, Finch; I can’t afford to."

“John, you can't think like –”

“And maybe that’s not what I wanted in the first place.”

The subway platform falls silent, not a one of them moving. 

Root clears her throat loudly. “Okay then, love when these things come to a head. ” She stands up from her half lean on the table. “I have a cover identity again so I am going to have my dinner somewhere outside.” Root scoops up the dumplings and another white noodle box.

She touches John’s arm briefly. “Go easy on him.” Then she hurries away from John and Harold. “Want to come Bear? Komen, komen!”

Bear jumps up, grabbing his leash in his teeth, and follows Root up the stairs. Harold and John watch each other, chopsticks in hand until they hear the noise of the snack machine door. Harold glances at the stairs then back to John.

“Should I understand from Root's hasty retreat you and she have had some sort of discussion regarding me? ”

John shrugs one shoulder and finally puts his chopsticks down. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” Harold echoes.

“I know what you think you're doing is right.”

“What I'm doing?”

"You're the smart one and it's your Machine, but it is our war. The fight is with all of us, not just you on an island."

Harold puts down his chopsticks. "Yes?"

"So stop trying to turn me into Lionel; a regular cop with a girlfriend and a desk and a normal life."

Harold clears his throat. "I am not trying to turn you into Detective Fusco. I simply think you deserve to have a social life."

"No, that's not it, Finch."

Harold waves a hand between them. "When it was just you and I, just the numbers, that was one thing but now... now you need the chance to...."

"I heard you the other day, Harold." Harold stops talking and stares at John. John pushes back his chair and stands up in front of Harold. "I heard you and Root talking about me, about what you thought I needed, about Iris."

Harold swallows once. "I see."

John's jaw clenches. "You don't need to play the rich recluse with me, Harold, pushing me toward Iris."

Harold raises his eyebrows. "I thought you liked her."

"I..." John sighs. "I did. I guess she reminded me of Jessica, smart but still innocent... normal."

"Then perhaps you should not have been so hasty to leave her," Harold tries sternly.

"There was nothing hasty about it, Finch. I've known it was wrong since that night we shoved the Machine in a box."

Harold frowns. "They why..."

John shakes his head and looks off into empty space beside them. "I was trying to make it work. Live the cover and it seemed to be what you wanted."

"I wanted you to have something of your own," Harold insists.

"I have something of my own, Finch." John looks back to Harold and his expression has changed to entirely fond. "I always have."

Harold could pretend he does not understand what John means, end the conversation; but John is always honest with Harold and Harold is not obtuse.

"Think about what you're saying, John," Harold says quietly. "You do not need to capitulate to my wants out of some sense of gratitude."

John chuckles. "I know that you want to give me a normal life, a place outside of your Machine's world but you can't decide for me what it is I want." John reaches up like he wants to touch Harold but his hand falls to the table top instead. "You saved my life already, Finch."

Harold presses his lips together tightly as he speaks. "That does not mean I own it, Mr. Reese."

"You're right, it doesn't," John says, his body tense like he wants to grab Harold. "It means that there will always be a strong bond between us. You can't deny that."

Harold opens his mouth to protest but John wins this point. "No, I suppose I can't."

John steps closer so only breathing space remains between them. John's hands move again up to hold Harold's sides. Harold abruptly puts his hand on John's chest stopping him midway.

"The point of my conversation with Ms. Groves," Harold says, keeping his breath even and calm, "was that I will not be here forever and I know you John." Harold pulls his hand back. "You need life to have a reason, be it another person or saving lives. If I am gone or the numbers cease..."

"Finch, there is no way if you're not surviving this war that I'm not going down with you," John interrupts fiercely.

Harold shakes his head and feels a lump in this throat. "John..."

"Just how long do you think I'd last if I lost you?" Harold stares at him and the certain expression on John's face. 

They stand quietly for a moment, John's eyes glancing up and down Harold's face. Then he reaches out tentatively and touches Harold's upper arm. Harold does not stop him. "It can't be all doom and gloom, Harold. We are allowed to find happiness too."

"That is what I wanted for you, John."

"And what about you?"

"I have our work and I have Her." Harold looks briefly over John's shoulder at Her monitors in the subway car. "I need to watch out for Her, protect Her."

"You know that people have children and love lives, Harold."

Harold huffs slightly at John's use of the word 'children.' Still, as far as they have come now, there is no other word for the Machine. Harold calls it She and he knows he will not leave Her. What better word for his creation now than 'child,' especially after she called him father?

"This isn't something new, Harold." John slides his hand down Harold's arm to thread their fingers together. "It's just something I thought I couldn't have. I thought you knew that? You and Grace..."

"Grace is gone," Harold says quickly.

"And I am right here."

Harold smiles affectionately. "And I suppose your point is that I should not push you away." 

John smiles and squeezes Harold's hand. "Safe is together, Harold, not apart." It sounds corny and Harold knows John thinks the same thing. They both grin like stupid teenagers. "You told Root," John continues, "we need to live for now."

Harold cannot deny his own words, 'live for now.' 

Harold slides his hand up over John's neck, leans up and kisses him. John melts instantly. He lets go of Harold's hand and wraps his arm around Harold's back, his other hand gripping Harold's side underneath his suit jacket. Harold has to slide his other arm up to John's shoulder so he is not trapped by John's embrace. They kiss slow but insistent, years pent up between them which Harold denied but now appear with total clarity. John kisses deeply, with such feeling Harold thinks he could never match; he kisses Harold as though Harold may change his mind back to his sacrificial tower. Yet now that they have crossed this bridge, Harold won't put John back into the box. 

"John," Harold says softly into their kiss.

John 'hmms' against Harold's lips but does not stop. If anything he presses closer to Harold, his kisses more frenzied. He tastes like gun smoke and mint and that primal smell just defined as 'John' and he feels like hard edges from years as nothing but a weapon but now completely one perfect man to Harold. The skin of John's neck burns hot under Harold's fingers. He shifts his hand down, two fingers beneath John's collar and his thumb at the hollow of John's throat. John pulls his arm around from Harold's back and starts to pull at Harold's tie. Harold gasps and their lips break apart for a moment.

"Have I told you, I love your ties?" John rasps.

"No."

Then John kisses Harold again as he loosens Harold's tie, the top button coming undone. Harold pulls his hand away from John's shoulder, slides it around John's side and pulls John flush against him because Harold does not want to breathe. John responds by pushing Harold backward until Harold hits the small table with their take out littered across it. Harold stumbles, the table skids half a foot, and one bag and a takeout box knock onto the floor, spilling lo mein everywhere. Harold yanks his hand away from John's neck to grasp the table so the two of them do not fall to the floor with the takeout.

"John." Harold breaks their kiss. "Wait."

John looks down at the floor then back to Harold. "Uh, sorry."

Harold chuckles. "Well, you didn't knock mine down."

John smiles then takes a step back so Harold can stand up straight again. They look at each other for a moment, red lips and somewhat disheveled clothing. Harold wants to say this is unexpected but years of a hand on his arm or his side or chest, a rescue at just the right moment, John's insistent, worried voice in his ear, tells Harold exactly how long this moment waited between them. He told Root that John never wanted him but looking at John now, Harold is all John wanted.

"I apologize," Harold says.

John tilts his head."For what?"

"Trying to push you away."

John chuckles. "You would have failed." John smirks. "You did fail."

"I did."

John reaches out and pulls Harold close again by his waist. He kisses Harold's lips, chuckling at the same time. "I want to say I should take you home, if I had a real home."

Harold chuckles and runs his hand through John's hair. "Well, Mr. Reese, it may have dim lighting and be underground, and despite what I said before to Ms. Groves, I think we are home right here."

"I can work with that," John says.

"Good," Harold says as he kisses John again.

 

[What Harold does not see is Root sitting a few steps up from the bottom in the darkness of the stairs. He does not see her finish her fourth dumpling while Bear's nose digs deep in the chicken lo mein box.

What neither Harold nor John sees is Root smiling.]


End file.
